


Zorza wieczorna

by Gwyllt



Category: American Gods (TV)
Genre: Drama, Gen, Missing Scene, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-22
Updated: 2020-06-22
Packaged: 2021-03-04 12:47:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 439
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24850006
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gwyllt/pseuds/Gwyllt
Summary: Whet the steel, the raven croaks! Light the torch, Zernebock is yelling!
Comments: 3
Kudos: 9





	Zorza wieczorna

**Author's Note:**

> It was very hard. I'm not a native speaker and I've almost burnt my keyboard while I googled things. I've never googled so much for barely one page - but it was actually not so bad. I kinda like it))
> 
> And this is also the first work I post without any proofreading (myself excluded), so if you notice any mistake, please, will let me know.  
> (in my country, we call acts like this 'a death-defying feat' xD)
> 
> Attention! Spoilers for the second season! If you didn't watch it yet, please, don't read it (or take the consequences bravely xD)  
> \------------------  
> And back to the work. 
> 
> The description phrase is from W.Scott "Ivanhoe".  
> The epigraphs are from "Rjana Łužica", the Sorbian national anthem (a translation sponsored by Wikipedia lol).

_Battles hotly fought,_   
_Wars of iron wrought,_   
_Our forebears proudly sang._   
_Words of war songs loudly rang._   
_Who will now tell us their stories?_

The sun is setting on the West. A bright light goes out slowly as if someone turns down the fire in a kerosene lamp: it becomes soft and stray, filled with color. The bright changes to white, the white – to yellow, the yellow – to orange, and orange blurs slowly into red.

As red as blood on his hammer.

He is staring at the horizon without blinking and in sun’s farewell rays he sees a ripple of the wooden spokes in giant wheels, spinning and carrying away the light and the warmth; he hears a clopping of hefty hooves, striking sparks from the sky itself–sparks, which frightened people from the ancient times, predicting the exodus and falls of the nations; sparks, which people dub ‘comets’ with no understanding of the genuine essence of them. The God of the Sun is wrathful, his wise heart is in deep grief, but he can’t stop the run of his chariot–there is no place to keep the mighty horses anymore. No one will open the gate at sunset, hobble the horses, give them icy spring water. No one will set the table, bake bread, light the samovar, heat the bulky stone stove.

There is no one else.

Behind his back, in the East, the stars are rising, holding each other’s hands, leading the midnight darkness, and the lights bloom on the firmament, but there is no one to come here for. She will not rise above the earth anymore–

 _zvyarikaya zorka_ –

she will not shed her light on the world…

Won’t shed her light on him.

Heavily, he leans on the polished by thousands touches handle of his hammer and fiercely rubs his teary eyes. A single tear drops from his sore eyes and gets lost in his thick grey beard, which smells of cheap tobacco and cabbage stew.

“Wilcza gwiazda, Zwerenice, Gwiazda zwierzęca,”–he whispers names, letting them go in the dark sky one by one–whether calling or bidding farewell. His hammer hums in his weary hands–the hammer is tired from punishing, hammer needs rest...-

He needs rest too.

He turns around, turns his aching back towards the setting sun, and slowly places his hammer on his shoulder. Blood drips onto the sizzling roof–when the sun sets it will be turned black.

Black, in the Name of His.

_Once the Black God’s land,_   
_Ancient creed’s last stand,_   
_Now a raven’s perch is there,_   
_Ancient moss on rocks once bare,_   
_Altars for our forebears’ worship._

**Author's Note:**

> And the hard one, the typewriting of transliteration of Slavic words is harsher then I thought.
> 
> Zorza wieczorna, Gwiazda zwierzęca, Wilcza gwiazda, Звярыная зорка (Zvyarinaya Zorka), Zorya Vechernyaya - all of them are the names of Slavic Goddes of Sunset (kind of), an Evening Star. In Slavic Mythology, Evening Star was opening the gates to her father, the God of the Sun, who was driving the chariot on the sky and also pointing him the way home. She was taking care of his horses and his house while he was absent, and she also had two sisters: Midnight Star (Zorya Polunochnaya) and Morning Star (Zorya Utrennyaya).


End file.
